


Haven

by ThreeOuncesofWhoopAss



Series: Mighty of Arm and Warmest of Heart [2]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Dalish Elven Culture and Customs, F/M, Flirting, Haven (Dragon Age), Pre-Relationship
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-22
Updated: 2018-12-22
Packaged: 2019-09-24 21:23:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,553
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17108369
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThreeOuncesofWhoopAss/pseuds/ThreeOuncesofWhoopAss
Summary: Cullen and Aeleva find time to talk in Haven. The flirting begins. Takes place way before part one of the series.





	Haven

**Author's Note:**

> This was written using my mage Lavellan Inquisitor. It's kinda jumping in at a random point in the timeline, as my writing is guided solely by whim.

There was a tension in her brow that caused her eyes to narrow slightly. She hadn’t slept the night before so much as lay in a self-imposed trance induced by the repetition of a prayer she knew from childhood. She used to say it to herself every night as she fell asleep, and despite the years that had passed since she partook in that nightly ritual, its recitation still had the power to calm her. She must have said it hundreds of times in her mind, measuring her breaths against its rhythm. In truth, her mantra was the only thing holding the line of her sanity. By forcing herself to focus on the words, she was able to ward off the panic attacks that had plagued her a few nights prior. Still, no matter how many times she said it, she just couldn’t fall asleep. So instead she simply laid there half-awake for hours, feeling her heart beating in her throat.

It was Leliana who finally roused her from semi-consciousness when the sun had just barely risen. Despite the lack of sleep, she became alert almost immediately. She hoped her vallaslin would be enough to mask the dark circles that were sure to be underneath her eyes. Leliana wore it better, but her eyes were red around the edges as well. She threw on whatever clothes were within reach, not bothering to wait for Leliana to give her privacy. She didn’t feel as though she belonged to herself any longer. She was a figurehead at best, a tool at worst. _The Herald of Andraste_. It was a cruel joke. If their Maker did exist he was a bastard. Her survival was nothing but dumb luck, she was sure if it. Certainly it had been _bad luck_. The mark still stung, pangs occurring randomly. She wished she could give it to someone else, let them deal with this clusterfuck. Cassandra probably. She was damn near fanatical about the whole thing. Unfortunately, Solas had diagnosed the mark as permanent. And why not? Everything else in Thedas was going to shit, why should her life be any different.

They entered the War Council chambers together. Josephine and Cullen were already there waiting for them. How kind it was of Leliana to escort her there every morning. Though technically not a prisoner, she knew her free will was a farce. It was decided that she would go to the Hinterlands to establish the Inquisition’s presence and provide relief. Her consent was a formality, but to be honest, the idea of getting out of Haven was far from unwelcome. At least she might get the chance to actually _do_ something rather than be led around like a child all day. Cullen stopped her as she was leaving the chambers.

“Are you hungry?” he asked.

She stared at him blankly, struggling to comprehend the question. She wasn’t sure if it was because of the sleep deprivation, the surprisingly genuine look in his eyes, or startlement caused by the fact that he’d thought to ask. She had to think to remember what he’d even said to her. _Are you hungry?_ She was. Her stomach felt hollow, and yet eating something hadn’t even occurred to her. She tried to think back to the last time she had eaten. _Yesterday afternoon, maybe?_ On impulse, she answered with a question of her own.

“Are you?”

Cullen looked almost taken aback by her response. “I-uh-yes,” he stuttered, as if just realizing it himself as well.

She smiled at him, or tried to at least. Her facial muscles were still sluggish to respond. It must have been close enough, because Cullen’s hand was on the back of his neck, rubbing in a self-soothing motion. His embarrassment was easy to provoke and strangely endearing. It offered her a brief reprieve from the reality of the world falling apart, though she did feel a little bad at being comforted by his discomfort.

“Let’s go find something to eat, then.” She turned and headed for the Chantry doors, glancing back to see that Cullen was following her as she hoped.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Cullen and Aeleva leaned against the side of the Singing Maiden, slowly eating the food they had managed to procure. Aeleva rested her head on the wood siding and looked at Cullen. He was annoyingly handsome. Definitely the most attractive _human_ she’s ever seen. Not that she’d seen all that many before leaving for the Conclave. She had been around humans before, of course, just not so many at once. They were quite different from elves. Bigger. Especially the men. Cullen could probably fit her inside him.

She studied his face. He was staring off into the distance, his eyes unfocused, like he forgot he wasn’t alone. There was a trace of some subtle emotion on his face. Grief, maybe? Sadness? Something more complex, perhaps. His eyes were sunken in. Apparently Josephine was the only one out of the four of them that slept. His cheeks turned a faint shade of red when he suddenly realized that she was watching him. She looked away quickly, embarrassed by her voyeurism. Now it was his turn to study her.

She could feel his gaze on her face, examining her. He let out a quiet puff of air from his throat, like he was going to say something but changed his mind. She turned her head to meet his eyes and raised her eyebrows at him questioningly. He was clearly thinking intently about something.

“Did it hurt?”

She narrowed her eyes, perplexed. “The mark? Yeah, it-”

“No,” he cut her off, “your-” He gestured toward her face.

“Oh! My vallaslin.”

“Vallaslin,” he repeated slowly, testing out the word.

She smiled, surprised he asked about it. Not that she minded. It was actually the first time someone had acknowledged it, and she was glad that he did. This place was so different from her home, her clan. And everyone expected her to act in a certain way. Like some sort of prophet of the new age. She didn’t even believe in the god she had supposedly been chosen by. She got the feeling that people were trying to distance her from her Dalish heritage in order to mold her into something they wanted, and she didn’t plan on letting them. So she was happy to talk about her vallaslin with Cullen.

“Yes, it did hurt, but that’s the point.”

Cullen gave her a quizzical look, cocking his head to the side. She continued explaining.

“It’s a coming of age ritual for my people,” she said brightly, “it signifies that one is capable of taking on the responsibilities of an adult in the clan. It’s a reminder of our heritage and who we are. It marks us as the keepers of elven tradition. We prepare to receive it by purifying our bodies and meditating on our gods and our ways.”

Cullen was listening intently. “That sounds similar to the vigil Templar recruits undergo before taking their vows.”

Aeleva shrugged. “I’ve heard a lot of horror stories, but you’re the first Templar I’ve ever actually met. I mean, I saw them when I traveled to attend the Conclave, but I didn’t speak to any of them.”

“Lucky you, then,” Cullen said, correcting himself when Aeleva started to laugh, “I mean-not about me being the first-I meant-” He sighed. “Many of the horror stories you’ve heard are probably true, so you should consider yourself fortunate to have never run into any.”

“I do,” she said, looking down at her feet. A moment of awkward silence passed between them until Aeleva finally broke it. “Anyways, the vallaslin has to be applied in complete silence. Any reaction to the pain is taken as weakness and the ritual is terminated.”

Cullen’s eyes grew wide. “And you...did that?”

Aeleva nodded proudly. “The design I have represents June, the god of crafts. It’s the same design my father had. It’s one of the few things I remember about him.”

“Oh,” Cullen said sympathetically, “did he pass?”

Aeleva shook her head. “I don’t know. I was sent to Clan Lavellan when I was very young.”

Cullen frowned. “Sent to them?” Aeleva nodded again and explained to him the process through which the Dalish distribute their mages, how she served as the Keeper’s First, and what that meant.

Cullen nodded in understanding. “Well, we’ve finished eating so I should probably get back to work.” Aeleva gave a grunt of assent and Cullen turned to leave, but before he rounded the side of the building a thought occurred to her.

“Hey, Cullen!” she called out.

He spun back around quickly. “Yes?”

Her eyes glinted with mischief. “Those vows you mentioned earlier, the ones that Templars take, do they by chance include a vow of celibacy?”

Cullen turned bright red. He started rubbing his neck just like she knew he would. She propped herself up against the wall nonchalantly, gleefully watching him struggle to respond and feeling like a horrible person.

“I-uh-not-” He tripped over his words, “well not usually, no.”

Aeleva was giggling now, and struggling to control it. “So not you?”

“Ah, no,” he managed to say before turning on his heel and disappearing behind the building, leaving Aeleva to catch her breath and forget about the world for a moment.


End file.
